


deeper

by lianhuawu



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 16:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19794985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lianhuawu/pseuds/lianhuawu
Summary: Mike tips his head back so it’s hanging off the end of the sofa. “You won’t understand,” he says, so casually that it makes Will want to scream. “Well, I guess you will one day, when you finally find a girl that you like.”“No, I won’t,” Will replies. His hands are balled up into fists, shaking with restrained fury, and Mike hasn’t even noticed. Will has never felt this angry in his entire life.Mike looks up at Will through his long eyelashes. “What?” he asks.“No, Iwon’tever understand,” Will spits out, “because I’m gay, you fucking bastard.”





	deeper

**Author's Note:**

> a missing-scene fic, takes place a month before s3.
> 
> title inspired by stigma by bts. the lyrics of this song quite honestly resonate most accurately with the feeling of telling someone your deepest secret.

Today, Dustin leaves for science camp. They all see him off together—Will, Mike, Lucas, Max, and Eleven—and Lucas chases the car down the road until it leaves him behind in the trailing dust. 

They’d had some vague plan to hang out together afterwards, but Lucas keeps batting his eyelashes at Max like a schoolgirl and Eleven’s gaze nervously flicks back and forth between the group of them and Hopper waiting for her in the police car, so they end up splitting ways anyway. Will doesn’t have a problem with the rest of his friends, of course, but he can’t deny that he’s a little bit pleased about being able to spend time with Mike alone. It’s been a long time since it was just the two of them. 

When they’re tucked away in the safety of Mike’s basement, though, Mike’s almost glued to his walkie talkie, waiting on bated breath for Eleven’s voice to filter through. Will isn’t surprised—this is how it’s been all summer. 

“Can’t you just, you know, talk to her first?” Will asks, because he’s kind of tired of this whole ordeal. Mike looks at him like he’s suggested something outrageous. 

“Of course not,” he replies. “That’s not how it _works_.” 

Will snorts from where he’s sitting, the table where they usually set up Dungeons & Dragons. They haven’t played a campaign in weeks, and Mike’s books and dice are tucked away somewhere unseen. Right now, Will’s absent-mindedly pulling apart a half-broken mechanical action figure and trying to piece it back together. Mike’s lying on the couch, the walkie talkie hanging through his fingers. Will kind of wants to grab it and throw it across the room. He’s not _angry_ that Mike’s priorities lie more towards his girlfriend, no, of course not, but—

Will’s always been different. Even before he came back from the Upside Down. He’s always been quiet, and different, which is why it was always easy for kids to spit slurs at him on the playground at school and push him into the dirt. Now, no one talks to him at all, but they whisper the same things behind his back. It doesn’t bother Will much; he’s too grateful to be alive to care about being called a zombie or a freak or a _faggot_ —

Will’s always been different, but his friends have never cared, or noticed. Not until now. 

The way Mike talks to him about Eleven (half incredulous, half patronizing, like Will’s somehow naïve just because _he’s_ not obsessed with a girl) makes Will’s face heat up. Before everything, he was a calm and mild mannered kid, but now, he finds himself starting to snap. 

Mike tips his head back so it’s hanging off the end of the sofa. “You won’t understand,” he says, so casually that it makes Will want to _scream_. “Well, I guess you will one day, when you finally find a girl that you like.” 

“No, I won’t,” Will replies. His hands are balled up into fists, shaking with restrained fury, and Mike hasn’t even noticed. Will has never felt this angry in his entire life. 

Mike looks up at Will through his long eyelashes. “What?” he asks. 

“No, I _won’t_ ever understand,” Will spits out, “because I’m gay, you fucking bastard.” 

It would have been a little satisfying to see Mike’s mouth drop open (because Will doesn’t curse like the rest of them do) if Will’s insides weren’t curling in on themselves in loathing. “You’re…” Mike starts, and then trails off. He’s staring at Will like he’s never seen him before. Will can’t take it. 

“So, the things they used to say about you, you know,” Mike says, eyes still wide, “they were true?” 

And, yeah, Mike is his best friend, but sometimes Will just wants to punch him. “The things they used to say?” Will asks. “That I’m queer? That I’m a _fag_?” 

Will stands up in a rush, more than ready to storm out, but Mike trips over himself to get to the door, blocking it before Will can make it. “No, no, no, hold on,” Mike splutters, grabbing Will’s wrists in an attempt to keep him where he is. “That’s _not_ what I meant.” Mike’s eyes are deep set, and he often looks more exhausted than he is, but right now, his eyes are brighter than Will’s ever seen them. 

“You’re my best friend, and I don’t care if you like boys,” Mike says. “I _don’t_ care.” It sounds more like he’s trying to say it to himself rather to Will, and Will immediately feels nauseous. 

“It’s—it’s fine, Mike, whatever—” Will replies. His heart, full to the brim with secrets, been exposed for too long now. 

“No, it’s not fine,” Mike insists. “I’m sorry,” he says, almost fiercely. Will knows it’s supposed to make him feel better, but it doesn’t; he yanks his hands away from Mike’s own. All the confidence that anger brought him has vanished.

“No,” Will breathes out shakily. “You’re not...you’re not supposed to be okay with it, Mike. That’s not how it works.” 

“What?” Mike asks. Will’s head is spinning. He walks back to the couch carefully and sits down, tucks his face into his hands. He’s trembling all over, a perfect picture of falling apart. 

“You know,” Will whispers, “the things that they say about people like me.”

“Will,” Mike replies, and the sofa shifts when he sits down next to Will. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. We’re best friends—why would I care what other people say?” 

“You should,” Will says, with a note of horror in his tone. “You should hate me.” 

“Do you _want_ me to hate you?” Mike asks. _Maybe_ , Will thinks. Maybe if Mike hated him, then the conflicting feelings swirling around in his chest would finally cease. “Well, even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could,” Mike continues. Will likes the way that Mike says things that he really means; his sincerity is almost vicious and it grounds the irrationality building up in Will’s chest. 

“You’re the first person I’ve ever told,” Will replies. 

“Really?” Mike says. “Not even your mom? Not even Jonathan?” 

Will lifts his head to look Mike in the eye. “Why would I tell my own _brother_?” 

“You tell Jonathan everything,” Mike points out. 

He’s not wrong. “Well, not this,” Will says. He entertains it for a second—going up to Jonathan and saying something like “I like boys, please don’t hate me”—and finds he can’t imagine Jonathan getting angry at him. All he knows is the warmth of his brother’s love, but he doesn’t know if it would last through this.

“If you ever do tell him, you know he won’t have a problem with it, either,” Mike says. “Well, he might be pissed that you told me first, but that’s about it.” 

Mike cracks a smile, tentatively. Will takes a deep breath in, but he can’t bring himself to return it. 

“Please don’t tell anyone else,” Will says. “I trust you and all, I just can’t—” 

“Okay,” Mike replies. He mimes locking his lips with a key and throwing it away. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” Will thinks he might cry, but at least he’s stopped shaking.

“I can’t believe it,” he says, mostly to himself. “How are you taking this so lightly?”

Mike snorts. “We’ve fought literal monsters from an alternate dimension, Will. A lot weirder things have happened to us than this.”

“Yeah,” Will replies. “I guess so.” And he could face down a Demogorgon without blinking an eye, but coming out to his best friend would still be the hardest thing he’s ever done.

“We don’t have to talk about this ever again if you don’t want to,” Will starts, just as Mike says, “Wanna watch Star Wars?,” and Will’s mouth snaps shut. 

“Of course you want to watch Star Wars, who wouldn’t?” Mike continues, and busies himself with going over to the TV and rewinding the VHS in the recorder to the beginning. 

It takes a couple minutes of silence before Will tries again. “Did you hear what I said before?” he asks.

“Yeah, I heard you,” Mike replies. “I won’t talk about it if _you_ don’t want to. But I don’t mind it, not really. You listen to me talk about El every day.”

 _It’s not the same_ , Will wants to say. It’s different—he’s different. “Okay,” he says instead, and leaves it at that. He and Mike aren’t on the same wavelength like they used to be; it’s like that terrifying week two years ago had switched Will’s frequency to something no one else could tune into. But Mike tries, and Will tries, so it’s not as bad as it could be. 

“I’m gonna make popcorn,” Mike says, and vanishes upstairs before Will can offer to help. They’ve seen this tape so many times that Will knows exactly how long it takes to rewind.

Will sits in front of the TV in silence. Mike comes downstairs balancing a huge bowl in one arm when the VHS finally clicks back to the beginning. Mike grins, drops the bowl carelessly into Will’s lap, and goes to slide the tape into the recorder. Will shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth while he waits.

“I think I’m going crazy,” Will says. 

Mike laughs dryly. “Me too,” he replies, and the conversation strikes a chord of familiarity. Mike looks at him, expectant, but Will can't remember what he’s supposed to say. All he can recall is the feeling of his cold heart suddenly bursting with warmth.

Mike over deliberately presses play on the VCR. The movie’s signature opening crawl flickers to life. 

“Speaking of Star Wars,” Mike starts, when they’re a good way through the movie. The popcorn bowl is already more than half empty, “Han Solo’s pretty hot, right?” 

And it’s not funny, but Will curls in on himself and laughs, laughs until he can't breathe. It’s almost cathartic. Mike looks a little smug about it. 

On screen, the music swells over the haze of twin suns setting. “Yeah,” Will says. “But I’m more of a Luke Skywalker guy, I think.”  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. please leave kudos/a comment if you liked it!


End file.
